


You Can Still Go Home If You Want To

by JXValentine



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters: Black & White | Pokemon Black and White Versions
Genre: Family Drama, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-05
Updated: 2013-01-05
Packaged: 2017-11-23 19:26:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/625712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JXValentine/pseuds/JXValentine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some things in Nuvema Town never change. Other things do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Can Still Go Home If You Want To

**Author's Note:**

> Written for quietsnooze for the Poképrompts 2012 Holiday Exchange on DW. Thanks to nandosagi of DW for betaing.

It was spring when Bianca left Nuvema Town, and it was winter when she got back. Yet besides the snow drifts and stripped trees, it seemed to her like nothing had changed. Cheren’s house still looked the same as it did eight months ago. Professor Juniper’s lab hadn’t moved an inch. The shops were still in business, and everyone still knew her by name as she walked slowly down the main drag. In fact, if anything, Nuvema Town looked like it did the winter before she left. And the winter before that. And the winter before that.

Part of her wondered if she could really go back. She had seen way too much of the world, after all, and there were things in this town she was terrified hadn’t changed with her. There was still time. She could turn around and march right back out of town without anyone who mattered knowing she had tried to go home. Perhaps she could find someplace else to settle down. She liked Nacrene City and the musky smell of its library and museum, and she wouldn’t mind taking directions from the booming voice of its curator. Or maybe she could get a job working as a waitress for the three Striaton brothers; she adored their sweet cream buns and didn’t think it wouldn’t be so bad shuttling from table to table if it meant free treats now and then. Or maybe she could go further. Nimbasa was warm this time of year, and Elesa made it clear she was always welcome back. Or maybe she could stop halfway between Nacrene and Nimbasa and hide forever in the lofty towers of Castelia. She didn’t have to go home.

But, no, she did, actually. She had to go home. She had already failed at one thing; she couldn’t be a failure all her life by running away from her problems. Swinging her leg around, she turned back towards home and walked. This was not a choice for her. She had to do it. Maybe even briefly. She didn’t have to _stay_ exactly. She just had to apologize, and that was it. It would take five minutes, no doubt.

Except it wouldn’t. She stopped, her foot hesitating in a half-step as she bit her lip. If she went home, there would be an “I told you so,” followed by months of being cooped up in the house as she received postcards sent to her by her friends from distant cities — sent to her by her friends who had better skills than she did and would soon have more freedom too. Her father was going to _kill_ her. She knew it. No one could change that quickly, especially not her father.

No, no, no. She had to do this. There was no question here. The suspended foot finished its step, and her legs started operating again. Her lungs took deep, calming breaths until they burned in the cold, dry winter air. The house appeared in the distance, its warm light flickering against the grey of the snowfall and sunset. All the while, her mind shifted back and forth between her decision to go home and what she would say when she got there.

_I have to go home I have to go home I have to go home I have to go home I have…_

_Oh dragons above, what am I going to tell him? This is so embarrassing! I can’t do this I can’t do this I can’t do this I can’t…_

_I have to go home I have to go home I have to go home…_

This continued right up to the point where she reached the front porch. It even continued for a good five minutes after she reached the porch, right into the period she spent staring at the brown surface of the front door unblinkingly.

_Okay, Bianca. Plan A. Knock once, and if there’s no answer, run._

She knocked. Somewhere inside the house, she could hear a shuffling, followed by footsteps. It didn’t take long for the deadbolt to click.

_Okay okay okay! Plan B. Knock once, someone answers, but this time, apologize and_ then _run._

The door swung open, and her father filled the doorway.

_Okay okay okay okay! Plan C. Knock once, he answers, and OHNOOHNOOHNO RUN._

Luckily, her brain and her body were disconnected at that moment, and she stood paralyzed on the doorstep. Her father didn’t smile, didn’t scowl, didn’t do any number of things Bianca was expecting. Instead, he simply raised his eyebrows in mild surprise.

“Bianca,” he said. “You’re back.”

With all her power, she forced herself to speak, but even then, her voice trembled. “I… I… I…”

Seemingly oblivious to her nervousness, her father continued, “Professor Juniper told me you were coming, but I didn’t think you’d be here so soon.”

“P-Professor J-J-Juniper told… told you that I…”

“Yes, Bianca. She told me everything.”

Bianca couldn’t help herself. Her heart thundered in her chest, and her knees felt like someone had replaced her joints with solosis. She dropped into a squat, her hands covering her head as she trembled. He knew everything. Everything! He already knew she failed her trainer’s journey, even after all the work she did to convince him to let her go! He already knew he was right and that she was wrong!

She couldn’t help herself. She started crying right then and there.

“Bianca, stand up.”

Her father’s voice wasn’t scolding her; it was pleading. Still, she couldn’t respond to it except to add wailing to her outburst. She could hear her father sigh, and with vision blurred by her tears, she saw his muddled mess of colors squat in front of her.

“Bianca, listen.”

“I’m so sorry!” she sobbed. “I couldn’t… I couldn’t… I cuh…”

“Hold on now. If anyone should be apologizing, it should be _me_.”

Although that didn’t stop her from crying, it _did_ stop her from sobbing and shaking. Sniffing loudly, Bianca felt her heart calm as she slowly lifted her head.

“What… what do you mean?”

“I thought a lot about what you and your friend in Nimbasa were saying,” he explained, “and I realized you were right. Every child needs to spread their wings and fly a little, even my little girl. Except you’re not really a little girl anymore, are you?”

Bianca wiped her eyes on her sleeve and sniffled again. “Daddy…”

“So what if you’re not a strong trainer? You tried, and that’s what matters. Don’t think it was a waste of time either. How can I say your journey wasn’t worth it when you’ve grown up into such a responsible young lady these past several months?”

By then, Bianca stopped crying. She stared silently at her father, unable to speak. Her voice was caught in her throat; it felt like a painful lump right at the back of her mouth. Gradually, her father smiled at her in her silence.

“I’m proud of you, Bianca,” he finished. “Besides, Professor Juniper taught me something while you were away too.”

She blinked. “What… what did she teach you?”

Her father didn’t answer right then. Instead, he reached out, gently took her by the wrists, and pulled her to her feet. Then, he lead her back into the house, back into the living room. The space was cramped, with a red plush couch and a set of matching chairs huddled around a crackling fire. Light danced across the metallic Christmas decorations covering the adjacent tree, the worn fabric of the furniture, the cream-colored fur peeking out from behind one of the chairs…

Bianca stopped at the last one, taking it in for a few seconds before looking with uncertainty at her father. He grinned and whistled, signaling the creature to climb over the armrest and patter towards his daughter. When Bianca looked back, she saw a small smeargle in a tiny red sweater stumbling at her, its tail leaving droplets of green paint wherever it walked. Several times, it nearly tripped over its own paws and sprawled onto the floor, but by some miracle, it remained on its feet and eventually came to rest at Bianca’s with its tongue lolling out of its head.

“This is Smeargle,” Bianca’s father told her. “Professor Juniper gave him to me to teach me that pokémon aren’t so bad after all. She thought I’d have to get used to the idea of having them around if my daughter is going to be her research assistant.”

Bianca’s eyes immediately went wide, and she swiveled her head towards her father in an instant. Professor Juniper told him about that too?

As if he could read her mind, he smiled warmly. “Of course she told me about that. That’s your dream now, isn’t it? I’m proud of you, Bianca. I couldn’t be prouder. This is a great opportunity, and I think if that’s what you want, you should do it. I won’t try to stop you this time.”

Her arms were immediately around his waist, and her tongue was spilling out thank you after thank you. She could feel Smeargle’s arms around one of her legs, and in the warmth, Bianca felt truly, completely happy for the first time in months.

“Of course, there’s one last thing you need to do,” her father said as he pulled away from her.

Suddenly, Bianca felt colder. Her smile faded slightly as she wrapped her arms around herself.

“Like what?” she asked quietly.

Grinning, her father pointed at the fireplace with a thumb. “Have hot chocolate and roasted chestnuts with Smeargle, your mother, and me. For old times’ sake.”

For the hours after that, Bianca sat with her parents and with Smeargle, cozy in the warmth and company. Every so often, as they talked and laughed and drank from massive mugs of hot chocolate, she couldn’t help but think that there were some things in Nuvema that had stayed the same since she left, but there were some things that changed drastically. And both, really, were okay.


End file.
